Page 1 of A Whisper and a Curse

CHAPTER 1

London, April 1868

Hadrian Becket, Earl of Ravenhurst, had been shocked when his mother had asked to invite his investigative partner, Miss Matilda Wren, to their biweekly Sunday tea. It wasn’t actually the invitation that surprised him, but the purpose of it. The dowager countess wanted tohireTilda to investigate … something, which she hadn’t yet disclosed.

As Tilda poured the tea, Hadrian kept his curiosity in check. Barely.

The minutes stretched as they made small talk. Hadrian forced himself to sip his tea.

Then he could stand it no longer. He impaled his mother with his most direct stare. “I am on tenterhooks waiting to hear why you need Miss Wren’s help.”

His mother’s blue eyes—so like his own—narrowed at him ever so slightly. “I don’t want to hear any admonishment about any of this. Do you understand?”

Bloody hell.This did not bode well. Hadrian tried to temper his concern. “Of course, but such a warning does not herald a sense of comfort.”

“I just don’t want you to counsel me.” His mother sniffed, as if she were already affronted.

“I will not, Mama.” He tried not to sound beleaguered and likely failed.

His mother abruptly turned her attention to Tilda, and Hadrian took another drink of tea. “I have recently begun consulting with a medium,” the dowager countess said.

Hadrian nearly choked.

Coughing, he set his cup down. His mother glowered at him briefly, then looked back to Tilda. “She says she can communicate with Gabriel. Miss Wren, I want you to determine if she is authentic.”

Of all the ridiculous notions. Why would his mother want to speak with Gabriel anyway? Hadrian’s younger brother had died five years ago of cholera in India. His death would always provoke sadness. Why would his mother want to stir that up?

Perhaps because she still missed her youngest child. And now some charlatan was going to exploit her grief.

A sudden flush crept up Hadrian’s neck as anger at this unnamed medium swept through him. He clamped his lips together lest he speak out.

Tilda glanced at him, and he kept his features stoic. He could not tell what she was thinking, but she did not appear alarmed. She smiled at his mother. “I will be glad to help, Lady Ravenhurst. Allow me to take notes whilst you provide the necessary details.”

Hadrian silently fumed. Had he really expected Tilda to deny his mother’s request? She was a paying client, and Tilda needed those. Not that Tilda would takeanycase. But did she really think it was possible to prove a medium was authentic? Hell, Hadrian couldn’t prove his visions were real.

The visions had started after he’d been stabbed a few months ago. As Hadrian had fallen to the pavement, he’d managed to remove a ring from his assailant’s finger. Hadrian had struck his head and lost consciousness.

One terrible concussion and a few days later, Hadrian had touched the ring and seen visions in his mind. After much investigation and frustration, he’d realized the visions were the memories of the man who’d worn that ring. The visions had continued—memories from others—as he’d touched other objects and people, provided he touched his bare skin to the object or another’s flesh.

There was no explanation for how he was able to see what he did or how he could often feel the person’s emotions in addition to seeing their memories. The only other person who knew of his confounding affliction was Tilda. That was because these visions and sensations had been crucial in helping to solve multiple murders they’d worked together to investigate. Indeed, his visions were the reason they were an investigative team. She was the investigator, and his unique power often guided her inquiries.

He supposed the fact that his visions had never steered them wrong, nor were they ever proven to be false, was as good as proof that they were real. Nevertheless, he didn’t plan to tell anyone else about them.

Hadrian gave his mother a patient stare. “I don’t think Miss Wren’s capabilities extend to determining whether a medium’s power is real or not. Nor do I think you need her to do so.Ican tell you that this medium cannot possibly talk to Gabriel.”

His mother exhaled. “I knew you would say something like that. However, I have it on good authority that shecanspeak to the dead.”

“Whose authority? And if you are so certain, why do you need to hire Miss Wren?”

Lips pursing, the dowager narrowed her eyes slightly. “I amnotcertain, but my friend, Mrs. Langdon, who has been to her séances, swears the medium can speak to the dead. The medium revealed things she could not know. I trust Evelyn—Mrs. Langdon. However, I want to hire Miss Wren to make sure the medium is authentic.” She focused on Hadrian intently. “Wouldn’t you like to speak with Gabriel again?”

Hadrian missed his brother. He was angry that his life had been cut short, particularly since he’d been in love and on the verge of marriage, according to the last letter Hadrian had received from him. But Hadrian didnotexpect to speak with him.

“Mother, Gabriel is dead,” he said quietly.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he is gone. He’s in the spirit realm, and he can communicate with us. At least, that is what I hope.” The dowager countess picked up her teacup and sipped before replacing it on the table.

“Is that what the medium told you, that he’s in the spirit realm?” Tilda asked, snatching the question from Hadrian’s mind but posing it in a much kinder tone. Indeed, Tilda gave his mother a gentle smile and appeared greatly interested.